


You Take It For Granted

by MarshOnTheMellow



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 2nd chapter also in Dippers POV, 2nd chapter now with minimal plot, Color Blind!Bill, Color Blindness, FWP, Fluff without Plot, Human!Bill, Kissing, M/M, Older!Dipper, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshOnTheMellow/pseuds/MarshOnTheMellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Hi, my name is Bill Cipher, and I am colorblind. More specifically, I have what people call achromatopsia, which means that I can only see things in black, white, or in shades of grey. It’s uh... it’s dull, to say the least.</em><br/> <br/>  <em>There’s a company called EnChroma that has developed glasses that correct color-blindness. And for my birthday a few days back, one of my friends gave me a pair, and didn’t tell me what they were. He just... told me to put them on my face.”</em></p><p>Or in other words: extremely self-indulgent and short oneshot while experimenting with a different kind of writing style.</p><p>Now a two-shot because I have no self-restraint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is no reason this exists other than [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCcxwieuDH0)
> 
> ***PLEASE NOTE THAT ENCHROMA GLASSES DON'T ACTUALLY CORRECT ACHROMATOPSIA***

The video opens with a man against a white wall. He’s blonde, with tan skin and blue eyes, a bit red-rimmed for some reason as if he had been crying not long before he had started recording. There’s not much you can tell about him, as he is wearing a bright yellow blazer over a white dress shirt, and there’s nothing else on the screen. The moment he realizes the camera is working though, a bright smile illuminates his face, and he introduces himself.

 _“Hi, my name is Bill Cipher,”_ he starts, _“and I am colorblind. More specifically, I have what people call achromatopsia, which means that I can only see things in black, white, or in shades of grey. It’s uh... it’s dull, to say the least.”_

The video jumps, an obvious editing cut between takes.

 _“There’s a company called EnChroma that has developed glasses that correct color-blindness,”_ he continues. _“And for my birthday a few days back, one of my friends gave me a pair, and didn’t tell me what they were. He just... told me to put them on my face.”_

The frames change to the same man – Bill – inside what seems to be a wooden shack with a gift-wrapped package in his hands. There are birthday decorations everywhere – streamers on the ceiling, balloons in every corner, glitter all over the floor – and everything is headache-inducingly colorful and bright, with no coordination whatsoever. You suspect that this had been the intention of whoever had been in charge of decorations, and you smile knowingly. Evidently, this part of the video had been recorded with a phone, since there are two large black rectangles on either side of the screen, and the angle is a bit low.

Next to Bill stands a lanky twenty year-old with brown hair and a red plaid shirt. He seems nervous, fidgety, with his hands in his pockets while rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Come on,” he says. “Open it!” He’s practically jumping up and down now, all the while playing with his blue and white baseball cap.

Bill starts ripping the package open. “Yeesh! Okay, okay... Calm you tits, Pine Tree!” he laughs.

Pine Tree (obviously a nickname) simply bites his lips, unwilling to give up the surprise.

He doesn’t say a word, but you can see the excitement bubbling up in his eyes as Bill pulls out what seems like a pair of sunglasses from the now open box. He stares at them, turning them over and inspecting them, before pulling the two temples open.

“These are really nice, Pine Tree!” he smiles up at his friend. “Thanks!”

There’s a giggle from behind the camera, high-pitch and girly.

“Put them on!” she says.

Bill turns back towards the camera, or more likely the girl _holding_ the camera, and cocks his head to the side.

“Indoors?” he asks.

“Yes!”

The camera shakes up and down as the girl jumps in excitement, and Pine Tree only nods his head vigorously.

“Alright, geez!” He puts them on. “Are these supposed to do something? I mean, sunglasses indoors? Sure they’re niiiiiiiiiii...”

Pine Tree’s hands come up to hide the ear-splitting smile on his face.

The syllable draws out as the man falls silent. His mouth clicks shut as he slowly turns around, speechless, and looks up towards the streamers, the balloons, the glitter. He’s frozen in place, shocked beyond belief, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as the man next to him is clutching his gut in an effort not to laugh.

“What the _fuck,”_ he says after a minute of silence.

Pine Tree chokes on a laugh.

“Wait a minute.” Bill lifts the glasses up, squints, and lets them fall back down. “Dipper, what the _shit?!”_

“Happy birthday, Bill.” Pine Tree – Dipper – manages to wheeze out.

“ _What the shit?!”_

He points to the armchair next to him, flailing his arms around, before stepping and crouching closer to the piece of furniture, picking at the cloth, inspecting it with his mouth half-open in awe.

“That’s yellow, Bill,” Dipper says, and his eyes are soft, a small smile tugging at his lips, but the colorblind man has already jumped up and rushed out of the room and doesn’t see it.

The girl holding the camera rushes after the man, and finds him in the hallway, looking at himself in a floor mirror. He looks shocked, scared, horrified, and the girl comes to a stop. The jerking of the frame indicates she’s hesitating, and dread fills your mind just like it does hers. Was this not a good idea? Does he not like what he sees?

Slowly, his head turns towards the girl, and he whispers, eyes wide and disgust written all over his face:

_“How could you let me dress like this?”_

Three sighs of relief: yours, the girl’s, and Dipper’s right on the edge of the screen. Bill only turns back to stare at himself, and his horrified expression grows by the second.

 _“Those pants with this blazer?!”_ he cries.“Mabel, _how could you_?! I thought you were a fashion student!”

“It’s part of your charm!” the girl snorts. “And that’s green and blue, by the way.”

Bill only frowns and looks down at himself. “Which one’s which?” he mumbles, picking at his blazer, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it.

“The pants are green,” Dipper explains as he enters fully into the frame. “And the shirt is neon turquoise. Your bowtie is pink, you hair is blonde, your eyes are blue, and your shoes are red.” He grabs Bill by the hand and gently tugs him towards the door. In return, Bill looks up, eyes locking with Dipper’s own, and docilely follows his lead. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

“ _Oh my fucking god._ ”

The man turns back slightly, and squeezes Bill’s hand while flashing him a fond smile.

“I know,” is all he says.

They go outside, and it’s summer. The sky is almost cloudless, with the white blaring sun right overhead, and there’s an over-abundance of green in the woods and in the grass. The trees themselves are huge and brown, stretching long dark shadows across the terrain.

Dipper lets go of Bill’s hands and stops only a few steps in front him, turning back, arms wide open and laughing.

“So? What do you think?”

Bill only stays there, arms loose at his sides, silent, but you can’t see his face because his back is facing the camera.

You sure can see Dipper’s face though, see it fall, see him hesitate, see him frown and glance from side to side, see him grow nervous at the thought of having fucked up. He looks scared.

“Uh... Bill?” he says, shy, peering up from beneath his bangs.

Suddenly, Bill moves, and Dipper stumbles back as the man crosses the space between them in only a few strides. He grabs his friend by the head, both hands on each cheek, and stops. He just stares, still silent, at Dipper’s wide eyes.

Then he kisses him.

There’s a gasp from the girl behind the camera – honestly you had forgotten she was even there – but she doesn’t turn away. Maybe she’s shielding her eyes to give the two men their privacy, but you sincerely doubt it, if the zoom on their faces is anything to go by.

Dipper makes a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden change, but doesn’t seem to mind. Slowly, he closes his eyes, and lets his hands come up to hold Bill by the waist. At the same time, Bill’s arms slide around the man’s neck, and he leans back as Dipper pushes forward. Dipper’s nose collides awkwardly with Bill’s glasses but they pay it no mind, simply tilting their heads to the side and deepening the kiss.

They stay there, just kissing, as the video fades to white.

The hashtag _“#colorforall”_ appears on the screen, and then the video ends.

You're happy for them really.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working on Off the Deep End, or at least the prompts I have yet to finish, but nope. Have this fucking thing instead.

Two months, now. It’s been two months since Bill’s birthday, and coincidentally two months since he and Dipper started dating.

It has also been the best two months in Dipper’s life if you asked him.

Ever since he had given Bill the glasses, the guy never _ever_ took them off. It came to a point where the people of Gravity Falls actually came up to give their condolences on Bill’s “tragic accident”, thinking the permanent shades meant he was actually for-real blind.

Dispelling the rumours before they spread like wildfire was easier said than done. Especially in a small town where everybody knows everybody and everyone is bored.

Still, they managed, and the Northwests (under Pacifica’s command now that she stood up to her parents) even threw a small party to celebrate. It was the most colorful party Dipper had ever been too, and he lived with Mabel of all people for christ’s sake.

But back to the point, Bill never takes the glasses off. It’s adorable really, since half the time he just stands there and stares, taking everything in. He does it all the time, like he can’t get enough, and Dipper suspects that he actually can’t.

 _Twenty-some years in a world of grey,_ Bill had explained to him once, _and people keep on telling you “I’m sorry son, but there’s no cure. I wish I could do something, but there’s simply no way around it.” After a while, you give up, you live on, you accept the fact that there are jobs you just can’t do, dreams you have to give up on, you ignore the stares and the whispers because your clothes don’t match, and you get a special exemption on your pre-school color lessons._

_You don’t understand when people say “blue is for boys, pink is for girls.” You like your toys because of their shape, not their color. Your uncle thinks he’s the ultimate prankster for giving you a pink lego set unbeknownst to you, and gets chewed out by your mom. But you don’t understand, because you like the legos dammit. Everything becomes dull after a while though, everything becomes boring._

_People don’t bully you. They could; they tried when you were younger, calling you a dog, a donkey, any type of animal really; but they don’t now that you’re older, because they feel sorry for you. They pity you. You, the kid who can’t see colors, has no idea what colors are. The school gave him theatre instead of plastic arts without even asking him. The new girl – the one who color codes all her notes – asks him for an orange pen, and he says “Sorry, but I don’t have one.” because all he has is red and black, since red is a lighter grey. But then she points to the pencil case he has open on his desk and goes: “Bullshit, there’s one right there.” “That’s_ orange?! _”_

_He’s the freak, but not the freak you pick on._

And then comes Dipper’s favorite part.

_Until two twins move to Gravity Falls, and they’re all the rage. The people know them: the Mystery Twins, been in Gravity Falls since the summer when they were twelve. Finally, their parents separate, mom flies away with her boyfriend, and dad goes to town looking for a job after he got fired from the last one._

_The girl, Shooting Star as he later calls her, sees Bill a mile away, and chooses him as her next make-over victim. “Too much black,” she says, because that’s all he wears. That way, he’s sure to not look like a fucking clown. Bill doesn’t mind, she’s new and friendly and doesn’t know yet, and he already likes her too much to break her heart like that._

_Then he meets her brother._

_He doesn’t even_ need _color to be interesting. He’s top of the class, better than Bill even (he’s still bitter about that, don’t think he isn’t), and always has his nose buried in some book or other about the supernatural. He’s a nerd, a full-on unironic nerd, but he’s got a muscle to him that ~~Bill salivates over~~ wards off any potential tormentors. He quickly becomes that weird conspiracy theorist, the illuminati-confirmed-guy, and people mock him by bringing up their fingers in the shape of a triangle every time he passes by._

 _Two weeks later, people mock_ them _by bringing up their fingers in the shape of a triangle every time they pass by._

_The three of them - Bill, Pine Tree, and Shooting Star – go out into the woods on the weekends, and Bill learns how exactly Pine Tree got his muscles. They discover the most wonderful things, explore the most beautiful places, but when Bill accidentally picks up a yellow crystal instead of a green crystal like Pine Tree said, the truth comes out._

_He was scared actually. Scared they were going to tell him that he couldn’t come with them anymore, not if he was going to mess up like that. Scared they were going to start pitying him, start going out of their way and give him jobs that didn’t involve color, communicating with that weird twin telepathy of theirs, giving concerned glances over their shoulder like Bill couldn’t see them._

_Instead, Shooting Star throws up her arms in the air and yells: “THAT’S WHY!”, referring to the now colorful wardrobe he always mixes up. She then crosses her arms and pouts and calls Bill stupid. Pine Tree, on the other hand, already looks like he’s plotting something. Apparently, there’s this magical predator bird that lures people in with the color of its feathers, and the people, without fail, get their eyes pecked out because they’re hypnotized by the plumage._

_For once, people don’t care about his disability._

_For once, his disability becomes an advantage._

And that’s how Bill puts it. The first time he told them that, Mabel was a bawling mess and tackled him into a hug, whilst Dipper... well... he wasn’t any better. But can you really blame him?

But that’s irrelevant now, because Bill _sees_ and _can identify_ colors just as well as any other person.

Mabel had been the one to find the glasses, apparently from one of her social media platforms Dipper just couldn’t bother to keep up with. They didn’t even think about it, didn’t even blink at the price. Bill was going to own those glasses one way or another, or so help them God.

Now, in the middle of autumn, with the leaves all red, orange, yellow and brown, not too hot, not too cold, and the wind blowing gently, Dipper couldn’t think of a more perfect Saturday evening.

Outside had always been their favorite place, out and about adventuring and hunting for the mysteries of Gravity Falls, but right now, after a stressful week of midterm exams, it suits them both to just lay underneath a cedar tree.

Dipper is almost dozing off on the ground, head in his boyfriend’s lap, while said boyfriend is sitting up, back against the tree trunk, raking his fingers through Dipper’s hair. He sighs, content, and rolls over, nuzzling Bill’s stomach.

“Hey,” he mumbles.

Bill had gotten better recently at matching his sweaters with his shoes and his bowties with his pants. But he was still _Bill_ and the pink dress shirt with the yellow pants made a reoccurring appearance every odd week or so. And here the twins were afraid that the Mystery Shack was going to lose its weekly fashion statement.

Dipper looks up from where he currently has his head buried in a purple cardigan, and sees Bill with his head turned up towards the sky, no doubt staring at all the different colored leaves. He’s probably been like this ever since they first sat down, and Dipper feels joy bubble up inside of him. Two months and he still feels like the best man in the world for giving Bill his birthday present.

Every time the guy just stops and stares, he always has this expression on this face. Mabel calls it his “color face”. You can’t really see his eyes because of the shades, but it’s easy to guess that they’re wide open. His mouth is closed, but his jaw is relaxed, and he looks so serene, yet so amazed, like a kid discovering the world for the first time. Dipper just wants to kiss the living daylights out of him every time he sees him like that.

So when Bill looks back down, he can’t help himself. He pushes himself up and pecks him on the lips, chaste and quick, then lets himself fall back down. He feels a hand on his chest and brings up his own, entangling their fingers together. It’s warm, and comforting, just one more point of contact, and Dipper thinks he really could fall asleep like this.

That is, if Bill wasn’t also staring a hole right through him.

He peeks an eye open and yep, that is definitely Bill’s gaze he can feel on him. He’s got his color face on, and Dipper swallows.

This was not the first time Bill had looked at him like that either.

It always happened at the weirdest times too: when Dipper was making breakfast, or doing the laundry, or watching TV while they were cuddling on the sofa; sometimes during a hunt, or just shopping for groceries at the local supermarket.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he grumbles, head lolling a bit to the side so he can make eye-contact.

Bill only lets go of his hand, and brings it up to cup Dipper’s cheek. He moves his thumb to caress right under Dipper’s left eye, and his lips part, but he doesn’t say a word. It’s weird, because he’s normally always so loud, and Dipper frowns.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

He makes a move to sit up, but Bill’s thumb stills and so does he. Instead, they just stare at each other for ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds, a minute...

“Bill. Seriously. Are you okay?”

“Do you remember the first time we went outside with my glasses on?” Bill blurts out, completely avoiding the question though Dipper’s starting to think he didn't even hear it.

He lowers himself back down instead. “Yeah, of course I do,” he says. “How could I not?”

To say that that kiss had taken him by surprise would’ve been an understatement. He and Bill had been running in circles around each other for weeks by then, and Mabel was practically tearing her hair out trying to make them confess. Still, he hadn’t expected for Bill to just grab him and snog the life out of him. Worst was, Mabel caught it all on film and posted it on YouTube.

The video got over 1.5 million views.

Dipper wanted to die.

Still, that day got him a boyfriend _and_ Mabel off his back, so like hell was he going to let a bit of internationally-viewed PDA ruin it for him. It was still his favorite memory to reflect back on, and it was embarrassing the number of times it played on repeat in his head at night.

Mainly because that was the first ever instance Bill made his “color face”.

Don’t get him wrong, the kiss was great. _More_ than great. But Bill’s expression... _did_ things to him. Things that were best resolved behind closed doors.

“You are so weird,” Bill says, pulling Dipper out of his reverie.

He snorts. “Thanks for telling me, douchenozzle.”

“Your hair is just... _brown,”_ Bill continues, not even acknowledging the name calling. “It’s just so _dull,_ and _plain brown,_ and there’s nothing remarkable about it.”

“Hey!”

“But your _eyes,_ Dipper,” he marvels, and the thumb is back at rubbing Dipper’s cheek. “My _god,_ your _eyes._ There’s like, twenty different shades and that’s so weird, because I’ve never even _heard_ of twenty shades of brown. They’ve always just been this solid dark grey, but now they _aren’t_ and it’s _amazing.”_

Dipper can feel the blood rush to his face, and he goes even redder when Bill perks up at the change. His heart is beating a mile a minute and he’s pretty sure he went dizzy there for a second, his head feels a bit light and his vision unfocusing. He feels like throwing up whilst being _this close_ to just ravishing Bill right then and there.

Then an idea pops up in his head.

He knows he’s about to ruin the moment, but frankly Bill has it coming.

“Would you even say that they were... _fifty_ shades of grey?” He wriggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s proud of himself.

Bill just groans, lets his head fall back with a _thump_ against the tree bark, and punches Dipper in the shoulder.

“That joke stopped being funny after the first five hundred times you’ve said it,” he complains.

Dipper just laughs, sits up, and goes to straddle Bill’s waist, throwing his arms over the man’s shoulders as he gently _boops_ the blonde’s forehead with his own. Bill peers back up at him, hands coming to a rest of Dipper’s hips, and he sighs, a small smile gracing his lips, before meeting Dipper halfway into the kiss.

It’s slow and all-consuming, with Dipper pouring all his love into it. They ease into it, tilting their heads slightly before their noses bump together, and they’re burning, drowning. Dipper gently prods at Bill’s lips and they part willingly with a gasp. He pushes back Bill’s tongue and invades his mouth, counts each and every one of his teeth languidly while Bill shudders and moans. His hands come up to grip Dipper by the shoulders while he licks into Bill’s mouth, sucking and groaning at the feel of Bill’s tongue slipping through his teeth, and when they come up for air, they’re both a panting mess.

Gently, Dipper nudges Bill’s glasses off, but a hand on his wrist keeps him from doing so.

“No...” Bill pants. “Keep... _Please_ leave them on. I want to see you.”

Dipper only smiles and kisses him chastely on the lips. His other hand comes up underneath Bill’s jacket and he pulls out the eyeglasses case being kept in his inside pocket.

“They’re going to get scratched if we do this out here,” he says, this time taking off the spectacles successfully. “We’ll keep them on when we’re back inside, yeah?” He puts them inside the case, and deposits them gently on the ground beside them.

Bill only nods begrudgingly, and pulls Dipper back into a kiss.

Then unspeakable things happen; things that are going to stay under that cedar tree and go nowhere else, if Dipper has any say in it.

Later on in the day, back inside, after round two under the sheets and Bill dozing off with his glasses still on his face, Dipper can only lean down, kiss him on the forehead, and whisper three small words he’s definitely planning on repeating in the morning.


End file.
